Wipe the Blood
by Kinxy
Summary: Raven feathers turning to black veils, onyx turning to charcoal, satin tearing and flying in the wind, porcelain shattering. Wiping whatever blood that was there. Nikolai/OC


Jennifer's Body, that's the movie. Nikolai Wolf, that's the duder. I wanted to use Collin for the story, but then … well, he got killed off. And that sucked. Then, I was like, _okay, maybe Needy and Chip break up? _And then Chip died. So, basically sitting in my chair, going "-" Shiroi and Twix (again, non-lolicon branch of my monarchy, and her older sister), being the supportive duders that they are, suggested Nikolai. And I got my hopes up… And then, he died. And just before another "FUUUUUUUUU-" ensued, I threw my cup across the room, exploded, and then said, "FUCK IT! I'll use him anyway, dammit!"

So, I did. This story is … really kind of sad at the end. And, for all you duders that don't get stuffs, I'll explain references at the end.

****Wipe the Blood****

She was a flame in all of his darkness. She was the one that tried to pull him back from the fray. She was the thing that tried to keep him tethered to Christian belief. She failed at her job. She was just a child. He held her close, blew her out. Pulled her under with him. He was her beautiful demon, she was his angel with the scabbed wings.

—-

That feeling of bliss, that's what Nikolai got from this. Feeling it tangle in his bloodstream, make colors explode right in front of his eyes. His mind was long gone, but his conscience was right where it should be. He couldn't bring himself to move for the first couple of minutes. Then again, he didn't really need to. Maxi was always there to wipe the blood from under his nose, and take the needle from his hands. She was always there to help him, always there to be out of place. She was only six, a number he adored, yet she had to be the responsible one.

Maxi always had been that responsible one. For as long as he could remember (which wasn't long, mind you) she was there, trying to keep them all in line. She was Jack's little sister, but she was everyone else's mother. They didn't get the option of calling her Maxi. Jack's little sister, their little Mother Maxine, his little Maxi.

His little angel. How ironic.

Maxi would always hold him close for the few minutes he couldn't think straight. Sometimes she would cry a little, sometimes she would remind Nikolai that she still loved him, or sometimes she would say a could curse words that a child shouldn't. Sometimes, she did nothing at all. Nikolai just assumed she was thinking.

Almost always, she was praying.

—-

The door swung open, and he slurred her name into the darkness. Nikolai didn't receive an answer. Not that he expected one. His hand felt along the wall, locating the switch and flipping it on. The main room was cleaner than when they had left, less trash on the floor, a whiter carpet. His keys hit the the coffee table with an audible clank, his shoes soon falling against the wall and onto the floor.

Trekking farther, Nikolai found the hall much cleaner. He didn't have to maneuver around any stray objects, or fight a sea of bottles and cans, There was probably several full trash bags out back. When he stopped in the bathroom to piss, he was surprised by the completely spotless tub. No blood. The clothes that used to inhabit the floor were now in a hamper in the corner. The clothes Maxi had been wearing among them. He found no shame in taking her panties from the heap, sniffing them hard, and shoving them dismissively into his back pocket for later. Maybe they'd be useful for getting rid of an untimely erection at a concert. Nikolai was a drug addict, but he was not a cheater.

When he finished in the bathroom, he again exited into the hall and traversed farther, to the only room that was completely free of mess. The room that Maxi called her own, for the time being. And in that room, he found what he desired. For there she was, laying with back facing away. The lamp closest to him was on, casting a light glow upon her nude back. She was pale, had the same dark hair as her brother, and was very thin.

Nikolai didn't need to say anything to her. Thus, he didn't. She wouldn't say much, right now, anyway. Maxi wasn't the most talkative girl in the world. So, instead of saying anything, he simply did the inevitable. Stripped off everything other than his boxers, and then pulled back the blankets from her waist to crawl in behind her. Maxi, too, had nothing on other than her undergarments. They were white, like the ones in the pockets of his discarded pants, which lay on the floor a couple feet from the bed.

His arm went around Maxi's waist, and he pulled her back against him. Her skin was cool, and she smelled cleaner than he did. Her sigh was expected, delivered, nothing new. Nothing about this was all that new, anymore. Nothing.

—-

They only laid there for so long; it was a matter of time before the usual ensued.

Nikolai's hand trailed over her non-existent hip, down lower stomach, until his hand found it's way into her underwear. Maxi only shivered a little when one of his finger gingerly touched what was there. When he ventured farther, though, she tensed. His finger found it's way inside and she immediately grabbed his arm. Through gritted teeth, she asked what he was doing. Nikolai only shushed her, saying,

"You're too small for it to go in easy, even if this is the forth time, wouldn't want to break you," his tone was almost mocking, as if telling her that she was just a child and couldn't do everything. On that note, he pushed his finger in a little more, and she squeaked. Quickly, she grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand away, sitting up and turning to face him.

Nikolai's arm wound around her waist, once again, to pull her in for a kiss. He found that Maxi's hand on his cheek was surprisingly small, just like her hand in his own. She was so much smaller than him. So much more beautiful than he could ever become. Maybe long ago, when he was young like her. And he found himself hoping she never grew up.

—-

He looked down at her back, pale and almost white in the dim light. It was arched downward a little, attempting to accommodate the large, foreign object inside her. Her body wasn't entirely used to or ready for something like this; Maxi was still very small, very fragile.

Her legs only went so far; despite being on her toes, Nikolai had to kneel behind her to get the desired position. He had to hold her in some way, though, so she would not fall. the bed wobbled when he moved. Not like such a thing was an issue; one of his hands went all the way around her forearm.

Her voice was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. Her body was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Her hair was like raven feathers, her eyes like onyx, her skin like satin. Her beliefs were strong, as was her love. There was nothing imperfect about this little girl.

Naturally, Nikolai had to fix that.

—-

She held him close, his head on her chest. There was blood on his fingers, a little under his nose. There was blood on her own back, a cut there, too. Not big, but very deep. That wasn't nessicarily what the blood was from. There was a pentagram drawn on her back. Drawn in her own blood. Drawn by him. She didn't mind, though. Nikolai had a sick idea that Satan would bring him his fame. She wished he thought differently, but loved him the same.

Very quietly, she reached down and wiped the blood from under his nose, contemplating.

—-

The girl could not have been older than twenty. Not even close. She had stringy blonde hair, dark eyes, and a thin but muscular physic. Her skin was paler than Maxi's own, she was wearing an orange prison jumpsuit. But, by the time she left, it was red. Everything was red.

Maxi remained in the corner for a few minutes after the girl had left. She had stared hard at Maxi, standing for what seemed like hours, though it was only a few seconds. In a very hoarse voice, she said that she was sorry, and went so far as to hug her. In a very hushed tone, she begged Maxi not to tell any one. Nikolai had sacrificed this girls best friend to Satan, this was something she had needed to do.

And she told Maxi that if she wanted revenge, all she had to do was ask. And then, she was gone.

When Maxi finally found strength, she crawled on her hands and knees to his body. His shirt was torn, so was his chest. She placed her hand gingerly on his cheek, and closed her eyes, laughing a little. Laughing at the irony.

—-

_"_Your skin," Nikolai whispered, gently running his fingers across her arm. Maxi shivered, and pushed her face into his chest, "it's so pale and beautiful. Like porcelain." She touched the pentagram on his chest, and closed her eyes."__

—-

Against his blood drained body, she wasn't pale at all. He was almost as beautiful as he had been when he was alive. His lips were gray, parted a little. Blood seeped a little from his nose, from the corners of his mouth, too. The most rested on the floor and on the wall. She carefully leaned down, coughing a little when she found her hand in blood in the once-white carpet. When she found the ability to do so, she carefully pressed her lips to his cold ones.

So cold.

—-

Blood made it's way down through her fingers, there was just a little pain. The knife found it's way into the floor, but so did everything else. Very carefully, she rasied a hand to her chest, quitely drawing a pentagram on her chest where Nikolai had his. With the weakest smile she could muster, Maxi whispered,

"If they're in hell, I suppose I'll go there, too."

Her strength was draining, her drive was loosening. Everything was blurry. But there was one last thing she had to do.

She knelt next to his body, looking at his face with a frown. Careful not to get blood on his, she closed his eyes. A smile graced her lips, a weak one, but a genuine one. She made quick work of whiping her hands on the floor, it was already dirty. And then she did what she always needed to. Her hand lightly touched his lips, smearing the blood just a little. Then, moved to his nose.

—-

Blowing out the candle, cutting the rope, falling under, picking the scabs. Feeling bliss, counting the colors of the spectrum, losing her mind but keeping her conscience, saying goodbye to needles. Saying her 'I love you's, crying a little, cursing a bit,

praying for a while. Slurring words that held no meaning, making sure not to cheat herself of those last breaths, never growing up. Kissing belief goodbye, clinging to what love was left. Raven feathers turning to black veils, onyx turning to charcoal, satin tearing and flying in the wind, porcelain shattering.

__Wiping whatever blood that was there.__

****End****

Okay, reference time. The ones at the end are … easy. Seriously, duder.

Her name. COMPLETELY OBSCURE AND UNEEDED. And ironic. Nikolai is obviously Satanic (I know, where would I get such a crazy idea?) So, here's the thing I did: Maxi is the name of the priest from South Park, who isn't very good at his job. So on, so forth.

If you caught that before I told you, then … you're fucking awesome. Second, and one that most people probably got. Angel With the Scabbed Wings, Marilyn Manson. Because I love that song.


End file.
